


A Game of Crimson Dice

by TheCrow7



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:35:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28410093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCrow7/pseuds/TheCrow7
Summary: Everything is the same until Eddard Stark accuses Joffrey Baratheon of holding no claim over, and there, things are gonna take a different turn. Despite Ned's Death, everything will take a different turn in a few instants. A different Game of Thrones will be born.
Relationships: Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister, Sansa Stark/Aegon VI Targaryen, Tyrion Lannister/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 13





	1. A devious turn of events

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time ever writing fanfic! Please tell me what I could do better!

Daris "Waters" was full to the brim with conflicting emotions about what Lord Eddard Stark just said. King Joffrey was the product of incest? How could that be true? But, Daris did not care now. He'd do what he was told to do. No need to do much more. He looked at Janos for orders. He didn't care much who got the Throne, as long as he did not get slaughtered in the process. Janos Slynt smirked and muttered something to the Goldcloak beside him, and Lord Eddard Stark looked back to see his men being slaughtered by the gold cloaks.

Daris didn't regret betraying Lord Stark. He had to leave the Lords to their lordly squabbles, lest he be killed or betrayed in the process. Stark's men didn't put up much of a fight. After all, they were pretty much all stabbed in the back before they had the occasion to turn back to face their enemies. Janos handed him the handcuffs, and he helped the man stand up. Now he started to feel a little bad, just by looking at the Lord's astonishment, surprise, and hopelessness. He escorted him to a cell, threw him in it, locked the door, and sat down on a bench. He was curious to see what'd happen now. Hopefully, there'd be no more useless deaths.

Sansa was told to leave the city, and that for sure she did not do. King's Landing was where she belonged, with Joffrey. Why did Father want to send her away? They'd be fine here. She had to tell Arya she'd stay here too. That'd put her back in her place. After all, despite anything Arya may want, they were Ladies now, and they needed to behave well. She slowly paced through the stairs and arrived at the courtyard where Arya was fighting with Syrio. She'd always be here whenever she had the time. She arrived at the courtyard, only to view a despicable scene which made her stomach jump up. A man was fighting with Syrio, and the swordmaster shouted something at Arya. Sansa arrived too late to do anything, even if she couldn't have done anything. Syrio exchanged sword strikes with his opponent but was sent to the floor by crossbow bolts coming from soldiers behind the knight. Sansa was so shocked she couldn't move. Why was this happening? Did Syrio do something? Why did Arya pick up a sword and run to the knight? In an instant, the knight slashed upwards with his sword, slicing across her sister's throat. Sansa crumbled to the floor. Why? Why...? How? And then everything faded to black when one of the crossbow bolts sent her lying across the stone steps behind her.

Aegon carefully opened the letter sent by one of his spies. That raven was a bringer of wonderful news. He laughed, and the guards right beside him gave him a strange look. Robert Baratheon was dead! Finally! This was a perfect occasion to obtain allies throughout the Seven Kingdoms. From what his spies told him, the new king was not a good one. Surely many important houses would be swayed to his side now. This was a perfect occasion. Now, to contact Jon! This was happy news, and his guardian had to know. If they swept in fast, they could take control of a weakened Iron throne.

The furious cold wind was biting at Jon, and the fire did not help a lot. He'd been here for so long now. He missed Winterfell less now. Jon had started getting used to the frigid cold of Castle Black, whether it was the cold Black brothers or the cold win. His watch was finally coming to an end. He came back to the elevator and pulled the rope to be brang back down. Earlier in the day, Lord Commander Mormont had asked to see him. Curious to know what the Lord Commander had to tell him, Jon was eager to talk to him, despite the chance he may be yelled at. He greeted the brothers on the way up the tower. When he knocked on the door to Mormont's room, the door opened in a rush. "Is it you, Jon? It's you. Come on in. I have some grave news. We found your uncle's companions, dead at the base of the wall, in front of the tunnel." Jon just stood there in disbelief.


	2. A Wounded Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa is smuggled out by Varys. Daris is told secrets by Ned. Renly discovers Ned was imprisoned and seeks to understand why. Aegon contacts his agents. Jon is ambushed by the wights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK! Second chapter. I Will try and do this longer!

Daris did not enjoy the dungeons. As everybody sane should. The dungeons smelled of moss and rot, of despair and sadness, of anger and fury, and of silent acceptation. The dungeons disturbed the bastard. He had grown to be rash and quick to anger, even taking out his frustration on his friends. But what disturbed Daris even more, was how the dungeons made once strong and honorable men pitiful. Lord Stark was not of these sorts. He stayed strong. He did not shrivel into something barely man. No, his will kept him alive.

For the third day in a row, the bastard descended to the humid undergrounds of the dungeons. However, this time something was different. As he stepped down the stairs, he could see Lord Stark moving to the door of his cell, intently looking at Daris. The young man approached. **Good morning, M'lord. Do you want something?** Other guards would've humiliated the poor man, taking at every chance to peck at the noble's honor and sanity. However, he would not be like them. He had convinced himself a long time ago that these men were of an inferior sort.

Lord Eddard Stark looked at him, his face dirtied beyond recognition. Daris felt as if the Lord was staring into his soul. And the man began to talk. Another guard might have understood this ass madman's blabber, but this one understood. The Lord talked slowly, gifting a precious secret to the guard. Why the bastard kept listening, he did not know. He only knew this was something nobody should have ever known. Why did lord Stark tell this to him? Neither did he know. Maybe he had finally succumbed to despair and needed to empty his mind. When the guard went up the stairs, his mind was troubled. This was not Madman's blabber. The lord Stark was honest, and in their week of sharing the dungeons, this was the first time he talked. Or sobbed. Or cried.

When Sansa awoke, it was only the dark. But under her, the ground moved, and she rolled once, twice, thrice before standing up, seasick. Was she aboard a boat? She barely remembered what happened. And she remembered. Hours were spent sobbing in the corner of the dark room, the boat around her shaken by the sea. Or what she thought was the sea. Her shoulder hurt but little did she realize her wound was bandaged and cleaned. The pain in her heart was much greater than anything else she could feel right now, and now it did just not matter anymore. What would happen to her now? Who had taken her here? They owed her explanations. She needed to stay strong. To find her sister. Her brothers. Her parents. She needed them now, and she would find them. Maybe this was all but a nightmare. But why did it hurt so much? It was well-known nothing ached during a nightmare. 

She stood up, and with her broken determination, knocked on the door, that she could find because it was highlighted by light on the other side. A few seconds passed, and the door opened. The light blinded her for an instant, her eyes ached, but it got better. In front of her was a tall man. A sailor, from how he was dressed. And from where they were. Just by glancing outside, behind the huge dark man, she could see the sea, dancing and rolling, the waves ever crashing the boat. The tall man looked at her for a second, then he smiled. **Stark Girl, I imagine you have questions. I do not have the answers. The little bird has them, you should go ask him. Now, I have things to do.** And he walked off. Sansa was silent and surprised. She did not have the time to even place a word in the conversation, and it was very disrespectful to her, a noble lady of the Starks. But maybe this man was a stranger. After all, he had a very strange accent. But she had other things to do. She dried her tears and then started looking for the fat man. She had to think rationally. This was all too much for her, but there wasn't anything she could do. She needed to stay strong. Winter was coming for her, and she could feel its icy grips around her neck. Her heart felt cold.

The Targaryen prince, sixth of his name, left the palace granted by Illyrio Mopatis, with two guards accompanying him. He would find the fat man easily enough. After a quick walk, he arrived at Mopatis's home. Palace, rather, again. The guards did not even stare at him as he entered. He had lived here since his earliest childhood memory, and the palace was alike to a Dedalus in every way. But he knew his way around. He was raised here. He lived here. This was his home. Much more than the Seven Kingdoms, even if they were his by right. he found the merchant eating in the floors above, enjoying the sights of the sea and the women. Aegon quietly approached the man from behind, surprising him with a hand on his shoulder.

The fat merchant turned around and smiled. **You only ever bring good news when you come to see me, prince. What might you want to tell me this day?** Aegon was all grins as well. **Robert is dead.** The merchant looked at him like an impaled fish, insanely surprise. Then he started laughing hysterically and asked for more wine. He turned around, two servants moving his chair to face the prince. **That is happy news. We MUST use this opportunity. A foothold in the Seven Kingdoms. Definitely, definitely. I will talk to Varys. This will be GOLDEN! We will talk to the Tyrells. We will talk to Dorne. We will contact our allies and those still faithful to the true lords. Under our leadership, you might gain power over the Seven Kingdoms again! Today, we will feast.**

The merchant's feast was pompous, as always. Belly dancers and mummers. The sort. Jon was not here, and it was a shame. Aegon would've loved to share the news with the knight. Sadly, he was gone to Westeros at the moment. Where he did not know, but he would come home soon enough. For now, the Prince would retreat to his quarters and study his plans. He always had more planning to do. He was trapped in plans and schemes and intrigue that were never executed. Now they would be. The web he had woven through Westeros, with the help of his masters, would make him and his friends strong again. He had a future in mind, and that future was a happy one.

Jon looked at the two dead men's bodies. Cold, as cold as ice. These men were beyond saving. Was his uncle beyond saving? Had he abandoned Jon at the wall? Despite his promise? Jon felt alone, in this cold hard world. The Lord Commander of the night's watch was beside him, examining the two bodies. Jon dared not approach. Then he saw the dead man hand twitch. And his eyes open to be a blue icy cold, as cold as snow, as cold as the wall. Jon instinctively reacted. He pulled back the Lord Commander, as the dead man's hand rose to hit the Lord Commander in the face with a dagger which was beforehand stuck in the undead's hand.

The Lord Commander gasped, and drew his sword, as the two men rose from death. They were in the lichyard, and nobody could hear them. Jon slashed, and the undead's head spun off, hitting the floor with a crack. Mormont did so too, and the two men were back to being corpses. Jon and the Lord Commander looked at each other, bewildered. How, why? Feelings submerged Jon. In Mormont's eyes, he could see the fear. Knowledge.


	3. The Rising Lion-Cub

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daris seeks to know if everything Eddard said is true. He is very intimidated by the Lord's words. Sansa meets the little bird. Aegon plans, and contacts a little bird. Jon is made a Ranger of the Night's watch, despite Allister's anger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comment, comment! They are the only way of knowing what I did wrong. This time, I'm aiming for a decent 12000 characters. Not 20000 yet, let's go slow and spoil nothing. Introduced some new protagonists. I find it hard to write from her point of view because I'm not 8 years old. She is said to be very smart though, so maybe she could be like this? DISCLAIMER: IN THIS FANFIC, ALLISER NEVER WENT TO KINGSLANDING.

Daris ate his gruel slowly, preoccupied with everything Lord Stark had told him. And now, today, he would be killed, if he did not decide to join the Night's watch. His secrets buried over two feet underground, hopefully. Now, he did not know what to do anymore. Tell someone? No, quite the stupid idea. There were no trustworthy people in King's Landing. Those that did not live long in the city of scheme and murder. But could he do anything about it by himself? No. Would he try? No. As Daris went down the stairs to guard Eddard Stark's cell one last time, his mind flared up with questions to ask. He wanted answers. But he did not ask the questions.

Daris was the one who escorted Lord Stark to the chopping block. The plaza where he would be executed was directly under the sun, and he was nearly blinded as he escorted Eddard up the wooden stairs. Ilyn Payne stood ready, holding a greatsword, apparently very sharp. King Joffrey, the little horror he was, stood right next to Lord Stark. With a booming voice, the crowd speaker beside him accused Eddard of treason and that if he did not deny his claims he would be executed. Ned Stark lowered his head. **Everything I said was lies, false accusations made up to betray our true King of the Iron Throne Joffrey.** He spoke very quietly. Few could hear him. Joffrey had a very satisfied grin spread across his face.

 **Carry on with the execution!** Daris did not turn back, but he heard the gasps. And Ilyn Payne swung his sword. Daris was prepared for this. In an instant, Eddard Stark's head rolled on the floor, his body limp and spraying blood. Daris lowered his head. There was nothing more to do, no one he could save. He was powerless amongst this court of cruel vipers. Daris was dispatched from the Great Sept of Baelor with a small hand gesture from Janos Slynt, and he left for the garrisons. Now, if he could find out whether everything Lord Stark said was true, it would be a blessing. Or a curse, depending on the point of view. Who to tell? Maybe read about it? A guard who read? What else would surprise the noblemen more? 

In the week following Eddard Stark's death, Daris documented himself on the Targaryen dynasty, on the recent history of the Vale. He listened to rumors and discovered secrets. However, what he was looking for he did not find. How long had this been hidden/ 15 years? It was a wonder no one knew anything.

The sun blinded Sansa, but she was determined to find the little bird. Whomever that might be. Finding the woman was not difficult. After all, she was the only person from Westeros on this boat. When Sansa found the woman, looking at the Sea, she shyly approached her. Immediately, she turned around. She was sumptuous, with a light shade of skin to her mother's and bright red hair. The woman smiled. **I imagine you've got questions, sweetie. I have the answers.**

Sansa did not wait to ask everything that was on her mind. **Why am I here? What happened, why?** She was crying now. And the woman answered her questions. They were aboard the firefly, heading for Essos. Joffrey had taken ahold of her family, apart from her. Apparently, she was recovered by the Spider of King's Landing. **Varys.** Sansa muttered. She would meet another pretender to the throne than the "Lord" Joffrey. Who, however, she did not say. During the whole conversation, Sansa was sniffling and softly crying. Why did she have to take on so much in such a short instant? It was so painful. Nonetheless, the woman took care of her. Gave her a room. They would arrive at Essos soon. They just had to cross the Narrow Sea. When Sansa went off to bed, tired of watching the beautiful waves roll, she wondered why the pretender to the throne would want to meet her. It'd matter later. She needed to stay strong. 

Lady Myrcella Baratheon was shocked by Lord Stark's accusations. She had a whole week to think about it, and indeed she found it to be surely true. So now, she and her brothers were products of incest? That disgusted her. She shouldn't ever have been alive, that sounded harsh but it was true. She was utterly despaired. They had lied to her family for all this time? They would be treated like monsters from now on by whoever believed what Lord Stark said. Everyone would hate her. Coupled with the fact Joffrey was crowned king, she wanted to hide under a rock and never come out again.

But what scared her even more now, how would she be used? She bet her mother would keep her close, and then she would be sold off. What would she do now. Again, under a rock would be better than anywhere here. She hoped one day, she would be free of Joffrey and her mother's grasp. Joffrey was a monster. He was cruel and evil. He didn't deserve to be on the throne. The people only liked good kings. And on that thought, she fell asleep. Tomorrow would be a better day. 

When she woke up, she thought about yesterday. If Joffrey wouldn't be a good king, what about Tommen? Tommen was nice, and everyone liked him. Maybe she could try and do something about it. She was sure she could help in some way. Small could be Strong, right?

Aegon reread the letters he wrote with the help of Illyrio. By first light in the morning, he'd send these letters to the old Targaryen supporters in the Seven Kingdoms. Surely he would win over the help of Dorne, with his maternal heritage. The Tyrells might be less easy to convince, but he was sure he could win them over to his side with a good trade. He hoped he could win the Starks over. After all, their lord had just been executed and one of his daughters killed. He had spirited away the other one. Surely they would be thankful! Or so he hoped. He had saved her from a fate that might have been worst than death. With the Starks, the Tullys would come as well, as the two families were allies.

All he had to do now was review his own strength. He had the Golden Company with him. He had their loyalty. If he demanded so, they would break any contracts they already had to help him. He had two thousand Unsullied. With powerful allies, Westeros was served to him like a piece of cake. However, he doubted it'd be so easy. The Westerosi were troublesome folk. He had to prove himself a good king, and a trustworthy one at that. There would be no raiding. There would be no raping. There would be no slaughtering. There would be no stealing. He needed all the friends he could. For now, he bided his time and waited for Sansa Stark. He had high hopes for the lady. In the meanwhile, he would contact Jon.

Lord Snow kneeled in front of Jeor Mormont, and for one of the first times in life, prayed to the old gods. **Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life and honor to the Night's Watch, for this night and all the nights to come.** As he finished the oath to become a black brother, he left behind being a Stark. He was a member of the Night's watch now, and they were his brothers. 

He raised and smiled at Jeor Mormont. Jon had been made a ranger for saving the Commander's life, proving more than able to be a competent ranger. He could see Alliser Thorne behind the Lord Commander of the Night's watch, smirking and smiling. The master-at-arms stepped forward. **Congratulations, Lord Snow. Lord Commander, I believe he is a strong ranger. Maybe for his first ranging, he should go look for his uncle Benjen? I believe he wants to do so.** Jon found the master-at-arms smile disgusting. Like a weasel looking at its prey.

The Lord Commander turned back. **That might be a good idea.** Despite wanting to go, Jon didn't understand why he was agreeing. Under normal circumstances, he would've never agreed. What was happing here? Jon looked suspiciously at Thorne, and the man completely ignored him. Did Alliser Thorne convince Mormont somehow? That seemed unbelievable. No, no, Alliser was planning something. That stank.

Joffrey Baratheon played with his crown. He was so satisfied with himself. Now he was the _**KING!**_ If he had not been holding the crown right now, he'd have trouble believing it. He would be a better king than his father. His mother had shown him how despicable his father was, and how he was of a purer line. Much purer, and perfect. Yes, he was the perfect king. All would bow under his righteous authority. He stood up.

A good king punished the criminals how they should always be punished; killed or sent to the Night's watch. Yes, he would visit the dungeons. In no time, righteous authority and judgment would have been passed on all these foolish men. With Ilyn Payne and two unimportant White Cloaks by his side, he visited the dungeons. Every criminal had a choice. Die, or the night's watch. Normally he shouldn't have given them a choice; the night's watch was useless anyway. Wildlings were not a real threat. He bet he could kill one just by poking them with a dagger. But he was a good and generous king, so he gave them a choice. A less holy king would have not. 

By morning, the Night's watch had a few hundred new recruits. After all, they didn't want to die. Yes. He was a good king. Keeping his citizens alive was amongst the best things he could do. Next, he'd talk to his sister, and have some fun with her. She was so pitiful~ so easy to beat, and she had the right to slap him back no longer. He was the King. He did what he wanted. And people followed his footsteps like the good dogs they should be. Like the hound. But before making fun of Myrcella, he had to talk with his mother. He was a king. He needed her counsel no longer. No, a king was wise, and people listened to them. Kings didn't listen to their mothers.

In the far north, beyond the wall, three wildlings ran as fast they could. They tried to put some distance between them and the Others, but it was no use. Ymgir ran as fast as he could. His twin sister was waiting for him at home. He needed to get back to her. They needed to get away. All fear had disappeared in his heart. He longed for home and his sister. They needed to get away, and now. It was no use. The Others would catch up. They'd kill them. And raise them. Ymgir had abandoned his honor by running. It would be useless now. There was only one way to get away now, He turned to his left, and pushed Yorngar. The boy looked at him in great surprise, then fear. Ymgir continued running as he heard the screams of his second companion who had stayed behind to help his friend up. It was no use. Ymgir forgot about them. And he ran and ran, to see the village right in front of him. He would pack his stuff, take his sister, then go. No time to linger here.


End file.
